


Life with Derek: Kiss with a Fist Remix

by unoriginal_liz



Series: Five (+1) Rooms with a View [4]
Category: Life with Derek
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-23
Updated: 2010-12-23
Packaged: 2018-05-08 18:03:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5507537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unoriginal_liz/pseuds/unoriginal_liz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Genderswap AU.  </p><p>Absently Derek wondered if Casey was like Marti’s dolls – wearing the pants, yes, but completely lacking the vital guy equipment underneath.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Life with Derek: Kiss with a Fist Remix

**Author's Note:**

> I woulda shipped boy!Casey/Derek too...

_**“And get this – when she has a problem...she just fixes it. Herself. She doesn’t go on and on about her problems. She’s kind of like a guy...”**_

*****

The third worst thing was the fact that he really didn’t want a stepbrother at all.

The second worst thing, was that while Derek originally pegged the guy as another Edwin – smart, but easily manipulated – he was slightly off the mark. The guy was more...what Edwin could have become, if he didn’t have a kind and considerate older brother to prevent it.

In other words, his new stepbrother thought his obnoxious, nose-in-the-air, sweater-vest-wearing self...was somehow _superior_ to Derek.

But the clear winner of the Worst Thing Ever...was the extra bed in his room. He didn’t even take comfort in the fact that it was a cot.

“The important thing to remember,” George stressed, “is that this is a _temporary_ solution.”

“No, it’s not,” Derek said firmly. “Because _this_ ,” He gestured towards Casey and his various boxes of crap, somewhat in the manner of a peasant warding off a vampire, “isn’t a solution at all. In fact, it’s not even an option. It was never on the _menu_.”

Casey rolled his eyes. “We moved past that point a couple of hours ago – try to keep up.”

Derek glared at him. “Why can’t he stay in _Edwin’s_ room?”

“Believe me, I considered it,” Casey said, as he set down a box, “But unfortunately, while his mental age is on a par with yours, there are...certain other factors that made that impossible.”

Derek looked at his dad.

“I think we need to bring Edwin to a foot doctor,” George clarified.

“Think of this in a positive light,” Casey advised, “I made my selection based on three criteria – maturity, personal hygiene and foot odor. And while Edwin bumped you out maturity-wise, you edged him out on personal hygiene _and_ foot odor. Barely,” he muttered, as he used his shoe to fastidiously nudge a sock from Derek’s floor-drobe under the bed.

“Yeah, that’s great, and I’m really flattered,” he said fakely, then turned to his dad. “But I’m still not sharing my room with Sweater McVestsalot.”

“Believe me, I’m not thrilled about it either.”

“See!” his dad exclaimed, clapping his hands together in fake enthusiasm, “You two have something in common already!”

*****

“Yeah, you can’t do that,” Derek said, from where he was stretched out on his bed.

“I can’t do what? Unpack?”

“Yeah. So put the trophy back in the box like a good little uninvited guest, and find someone else to annoy.”

Casey ignored him and set the trophy down on his computer desk.

Derek was up in a flash. This kind of mutiny couldn’t be tolerated. He grabbed the trophy. “I told you – my room is for _my_ stuff. _Your_ boxes are for _your_ crap.” He examined the trophy. “Why is there a ballerina on this?”

“Um...because it’s a _dance_ trophy?” Casey asked, with a strong undertone of ‘are you stupid?’ in his voice.

Derek stared at him. “A dance trophy,” he repeated slowly. “And you _want_ to display it?” He dropped the trophy carelessly into one of the boxes as he made his way back to his bed. “Okay – first rule of, how do I put this?– oh yeah, _being a guy_ – you don’t win trophies for dance. And if you do – you don’t _display_ them.”

“I’m not ashamed,” he argued.

“Yeah, well, you should be,” Derek said flatly.

Casey crossed his arms challengingly. “Dance is a sport.”

“Maybe,” Derek allowed. “If you’re a _gir_ l.”

“Dance requires discipline and strength.”

“And don’t forget the sparkly costumes!” Derek mocked.

Casey put that expression on his face – the unimpressed, ‘I’m smarter than you’ look. It made Derek’s fists itch for some reason. “You can joke about it, but believe me, a dancer can be just as tough as,” he caught sight of one of Derek’s trophies, “a hockey player,” he finished, raising his eyebrows challengingly.

Derek stood up again, drawing himself up to his full height. “And how are you going to prove it?”

He flicked a dismissive look at Derek. “I don’t believe in physical violence,” he smugged.

Derek nodded understandingly. “Yeah – people who get their asses kicked usually don’t.”

Casey’s eyes narrowed, and Derek tensed, ready. But Casey just took a deep breath and said, “Look, I know this...” he sighed, “...is a complete _nightmare_ for both of us, but...it’s like George says. It’s just a temporary solution, so maybe we should just make the best of it.”

Derek stared at him. Yeah, Casey was the _smart_ one, all right. “Did you ever notice the way part of the upstairs carpet is tacked against the wall?”

“Yes, actually. It seems kind of dangerous, with a six year old in the house.”

Derek rolled his eyes but inclined his head. “That was dad’s last temporary solution. Five years ago.”

Casey abruptly sat down on the end of the bed. Derek kicked at him with his foot.

“Five years?” he repeated.

“Uh huh,” Derek said, jabbing him with his toe. Casey was obviously still in shock, because it didn’t seem to register with him. Derek looked around for something to throw.

“No,” he said, drawing himself to his feet. “This – is not acceptable!”

“I moved past that point a couple of hours ago – try to keep up,” Derek snarked.

“We need to think of a plan,” Casey said. His eyes caught Derek’s and he sighed. “Okay – _I_ need to think of a plan – so shut up and don’t distract me.”

Derek folded his arms and Casey began to pace. “Okay,” he said. “ _Okay_.” He stopped. “Maybe this isn’t a total disaster.”

“No, I’m pretty sure it is,” Derek disagreed.

“I told you – no talking!” Casey resumed the thoughtful voice. “I mean – we’re both victims here” –

“Yeah, but unlike you – I’m not _used_ to being a victim.”

“Which should motivate us to find a mutually satisfactory solution,” Casey finished, ignoring him. He turned to Derek. “I know we hate each other,” he began, looking at Derek with deep distaste, “but that doesn’t mean we can’t work together.”

Ten minutes later and Derek was pinning Casey, a new but whole-hearted convert to the Church of Physical Violence, to his bed. Derek paused momentarily to think about the damage he could cause if he were advocating Scientology – before sitting on Casey’s chest, determined not to move until he admitted that hockey players beat dancers hands down, and that Derek was the greatest hockey player in the world.

*****

By Monday, Derek was almost looking forward to school. Despite their best efforts, the plan to deal with the Temporary Solution had only gotten as far as Casey writing PLAN in a spiral bound notebook. Something about the neat block capitals had set Derek off, and smart comments had escalated into a full on...well, not a fight, since Derek couldn’t call what Casey did ‘fighting’...more of a full on _flail_. Again.

So the prospect of a Casey-free day, even if it took place in school, actually sounded appealing. He even got a Casey-free journey to school. Of course, he should have been thrilled his new stepbrother wasn’t going to cling to the back of his leather jacket just to lap up some spare popularity, but any relief he felt was cancelled out by the aggravation of knowing that Casey didn’t _want_ to coast on his reputation, because he thought that he was _better_ than Derek.

The thing was – Derek wasn’t entirely unsympathetic to Casey’s plight. He clearly hadn’t grown up with the advantages Derek had (a testosterone laden environment where sports were watched, dishes were never washed, and the default position of the toilet seat was up). Instead, he’d been raised in a household full of potpourri and potted plants (Derek just _knew_ ). Was it any wonder the guy didn’t know how to be, well, a _guy_?

They could have worked out a ‘mutually satisfactory’ arrangement, where Derek taught Casey how to be a guy, and Casey…did all of Derek’s chores and homework and insisted on Derek taking half of his allowance. Derek wasn’t _unreasonable_. But for some unfathomable reason, Casey seemed to think _he_ was normal, and _Derek_ was the one doing the guy thing wrong.

Which changed the situation somewhat, because while Derek could have put up with a dorky groupie, there was no way Derek was going to take an attitude of superiority from an uptight keener with table manners.

This made it all the sweeter when he finally caught a glimpse of Casey in the hallway, crouching on the floor and talking to Emily Davis as they picked up books. _Emily Davis_? Winner of this year’s ‘Most Likely to Stalk’ Emily Davis? He shook his head. It looked like crazy really did find its own level. Casey’s hands were going and he was explaining something, running his fingers self-consciously through his neat hair, and...there was something about him that...

Derek blinked. Well, well, well. It looked like Tutu McToeShoes had at least _some_ guylike tendencies, judging by his ‘talking-to-a-cute-girl-and-panicking’ act. At that second, Emily looked over Casey’s shoulder and saw him.

As he passed, he put a little something extra into his swagger, and he tossed a lazy, “S’up,” her way.

Of course it was a dumb idea. At the very least it could be taken as an invitation to Emily to step up her game. But that was trumped by the sudden, overpowering need to one-up Casey. He glanced back just in time to see Emily Davis staring after him, while Casey directed the same puppy-dog longing her way.

He had to bite his cheek to keep from smirking.

*****

Of course, all traces of Casey’s normal guy-ism had been erased by the time Derek got home.

As soon as he opened the door to his room, he was ambushed. Reading from the sheet of paper in his hands, Casey cleared his throat and addressed Derek self-importantly –

“Since my arrival in London – and especially since the two of us have been forced to share quarters – I have been feeling unwanted by certain parties.”

“You really know how to read a room,” Derek deadpanned. “And for the record? _Certain parties_ didn’t invite you. Nobody likes a gatecrasher.”

“However, following a surprisingly productive meeting with our school guidance counsellor” –

Derek stared. He’d never met anyone less in need of guidance in his life. He’d bet anything Casey’s neatly parted _hair_ grew according to schedule.

“ – I have decided that, while ongoing attempts may be made to rectify this unsatisfactory arrangement – in the meantime, we should look upon this room as a ‘shared’ space.”

“Yeah...I’m thinking – not,” Derek said. He folded his arms, clearly signalling his resistance.

Casey ignored him. “In order to facilitate this – I propose a series of simple rules.”

“Fine,” he agreed.

“Really?”

Derek mentally scratched out the ‘knows how to read a room’ thing, and said, “Yeah, I’m okay with that. Once you remember that the number one rule is...this is my room, and what I say goes.” He placed his palm on Casey’s back and pushed. “So... _go_.”

Casey stumbled slightly with the force of the push, but dug his heels in and faced Derek again. “Number one – your organizational system leaves a lot to be desired.” He eyed the clumps of clothes that littered the floor.

“Well, I like it,” Derek said challengingly. “It makes ‘getting dressed’ an adventure.”

“You can’t tell what’s clean or dirty!”

“Hence the adventure!” he pointed out. He took a dramatic, chest-expanding breath through his nose and said, “I work mainly by smell. I find it strengthens the senses.”

“Or deadens them,” Casey replied, with an unimpressed twist to his mouth. He shook his head and continued, “Second of all...” he aimed a significant look over Derek’s shoulder.

Derek looked, but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary.

Casey closed his eyes. “Your _poster_.”

Derek stared. “...you _can’t_ be serious.”

“It makes me feel uncomfortable.”

“It’s supposed to,” Derek explained, with a suggestive raise of his eyebrows. Casey flushed. “Welcome to what the rest of the world calls ‘puberty’.”

“It makes me _uncomfortable_ , because it objectifies women,” Casey sounded frustrated.

“What kind of guy are you?” Derek asked, subjecting Casey to a disbelieving, careful scrutiny, as if he were a bomb that might suddenly explode without warning.

“The kind that respects women. And _that_ ,” he pointed at Derek’s thong poster, “shows a complete and utter lack of respect for the female form.”

“It shows an _appreciation_ of the female form,” Derek contradicted. “If it helps, just think of it like – an art exhibit.”

“Oh yeah,” Casey said flatly. “The Louvre, the Guggenheim...the Museum of the Modern Thong...” He shook his head. “You’re disgusting.”

“No, I’m a _guy_.” Absently he wondered if Casey was like Marti’s dolls – wearing the pants, yes, but completely lacking the vital guy equipment underneath. Seriously, arguing against a _thong poster_...

“You can be a guy without being a chauvinist pig,” Casey said.

“Says who?”

“Me,” he said, with an ‘isn’t it obvious?’ tone in his voice. “Of course, _I’m_ secure enough in my masculinity to question the dominant” –

“What masculinity?” Derek muttered.

Casey narrowed his eyes. “What’s _that_ supposed to mean?”

Derek took a step forward. “Nothing,” he said. “Just...if it talks like a girl, cleans like a girl, _dances_ like a girl...” he trailed off significantly.

“So you’re saying that anyone who doesn’t behave like a knuckle-dragging Neanderthal isn’t a ‘real guy’?”

“‘A girl by any other gender’...” He smirked and trailed off suggestively.

“Well, let me see if I can put this in a way that even _you_ can understand...”

He shoved Derek hard onto the bed. Luckily for his pride, Derek managed to grab hold of Casey’s shirt as he fell, bringing Casey down with him.

The weird thing was…he and Casey were pretty evenly matched, when it came down to it. It wasn’t that Casey wasn’t Mr Musclebound or anything – but underneath Casey’s deceptive prepster-geek surface was a surprisingly strong, hard body. Strangely, no matter how many times they ended up pinning each other against the wall, or on the floor, or his bed, it always jolted Derek. Because it was so unexpected, he guessed.

Being pulled onto the bed didn’t seem to phase Casey, who continued the lecture as he climbed on top of Derek. “There’s something called _evolution_ that means that your sexist, female-objectifying ways,” he managed to get his knee in between Derek’s and elbowed him in the chest, “are simply a genetic throwback to the days before we had fire” –

Derek slapped at Casey’s shoulder with one hand, while he covered Casey’s face with the other. Unfortunately, Casey’s words were still audible, if somewhat muffled, “– eventually going to die out, and _real men_ won’t feel the need to measure themselves against your stupid standar” –

“You’re not an example of evolution – you’re a weird mutation. Ow! Ow! Not allowed!” he grabbed onto Casey’s wrists.

“Hey!” he rolled to the side just as Derek’s knee came up to test his doll-theory. “Hair-pulling is off limits – but _that’s_ allowed?”

“Oh please – like there’s anything there anyway.”

With a growl of frustration, Casey launched himself once more.

*****

Dinner that evening was fun.

“So, Casey – how was your first day at school?” Nora asked, as she passed the bowl of mush they were all pretending was food, to Edwin.

“Hmm?” Casey asked, then, “Oh – it was...okay, actually.” He smiled to himself.

“Aren’t you going to tell them about your new friend?” Derek asked.

“You made a new friend? That’s great, Casey. Who is he?”

Casey glared at him, but Derek just smiled and said, “She, actually.”

“A girl?” Nora sounded interested, and Lizzie looked up from her plate.

Casey gave in. “Yeah, she’s...really nice. She showed me to all my classes, and we’re sharing a locker.”

“Wow,” Lizzie said. “Your first girlfriend.”

Casey’s eyes flicked to Derek before he frowned at Lizzie, and she hastily amended it to, “I mean – your first friend who’s a girl, not...not your first girlfriend. Because, you’ve...had so many. Girlfriends. I mean – it’s impossible for you to – to stay just friends with a girl. That’s...why I was so surprised.”

Derek blinked. This just got better and better. “You’ve _never_ had a girlfriend?”

“Of course he has! Casey’s had lots of girlfriends!” Lizzie lied loyally. And badly.

Derek directed a pitying look her way. “Yeah – the imaginary ones don’t count.”

“Derek,” George warned. “Shut it.”

“Oh – but you haven’t heard the best part,” he said. “Because Casey’s new girlfriend is none other than...” he paused for maximum impact. “Emily Davis.”

“Emily _Davis_?” Edwin asked.

“Our next door neighbour? Isn’t she the girl who uh...?” his dad gestured at Derek and raised his eyebrows.

“Yeah.”

“What?” Casey asked, looking between George and Derek.

“Nothing,” George said quickly. “I just thought...but obviously, I made a mistake.”

“Emily’s got a massive crush on Derek,” Edwin said factually, as he shoved a forkful of...what _was_ that, anyway? into his mouth.

“She does not!” Casey denied immediately. He flushed as everyone stared at him. “I just mean that...I’m sure Emily has much better taste than to have a crush on _you_.”

“I’m sorry, Case,” Derek said, voice thick with sympathy. “This wasn’t how I wanted you to find out your ‘girlfriend’ is only using you to get closer to me.” He paused. “Oh no, wait – it totally was!”

Casey glowered at him. “I’m sure Emily wouldn’t stoop so low.”

“Yeah she would,” Edwin said. “It’s a really common strategy. A lot of girls try to get to Derek through yours truly,” he aimed his fork at his chest. “What you’ve got to do is see how you can work the situation to your advantage. I speak as someone who’s gotten a lot of pity hugs from fifteen year old girls.”

Casey stared at him with a mixture of disbelief and disgust on his face.

“That explains so much,” Lizzie muttered.

*****

After dinner, Derek stretched out in his chair and flicked through the channels. But when Casey sat down on the couch, he offered him the remote.

“Thanks,” Casey said, with that tone that didn’t just mean ‘thanks’ but also ‘that was my due and why did it take you so long to give it to me?’ It drove Derek crazy.

“No problem,” he said. “It’s the least I can do. After all, the next couple of years are going to be really rough on you – since no girl in her right mind is going to want you over me.” He smirked. 

Casey stood up. “Take that back,” he demanded.

“Or what?” Derek asked, getting to his feet and standing nose to nose with him.

Ten minutes later and Derek was face-down on the floor, finding out that dancers really did have thighs of steel...though, this wasn’t really the fun way he’d always envisioned finding that out.

“Take it back,” Casey demanded again.

“No,” he managed.

Casey’s legs tightened (he was definitely going to have bruises), but out of the corner of his eye he saw –

“Marti – help!”

“That’s not fair!” Casey exclaimed, before there was an ‘oof’ and an outraged ‘OW’ – the kind of sound that might be made by a six year old foot colliding with a know-it-all fifteen year old face. Derek managed to wriggle free, and tried to get back to the important business of wrestling Casey to the ground (now complicated by the fact that Marti had developed a taste for blood).

“ENOUGH!”

They paused their wrestling to see Nora hovering over them, looking upset. Marti slid off Derek’s back and said, virtuously, “I was trying to stop them.”

Nora shook her head. “I can’t take this anymore.”

Casey scrambled to his feet, “Mom” –

“He started it!”

“Nora, what’s...oh.” George looked between Casey and Derek. “Again?”

“I can’t take this,” Nora repeated. “Every time they’re alone together, they’re pushing and shoving and hitting and – and _pinching_!”

“Nora, it’s just roughhousing. All boys do it.” George frowned. “Except the pinching.” He looked between Derek and Casey and said, “Pinching isn’t fair.”

“You think this is _okay_?”

“They’re knocking the corners off each other – it’s perfectly healthy. I used to fight all the time with my brother.”

“Well, this isn’t normal for me. And it _definitely_ isn’t normal for Casey. Every time I turn around they’re on top of each other! And it doesn’t show any signs of stopping!”

“Nora – you’re really making a big deal out of” –

“ _George_ – we need to talk,” she interrupted, using a tone Derek had never heard her use before. “In private.”

*****

The bedroom door had been closed for a really long time, and George and Nora were talking in low, insistent voices. Even when Derek and Casey pressed their ears against the door (which had led to a brief but silent shoving match, broken up by Lizzie), they couldn’t make out what was being said.

Finally, their parents emerged. They didn’t seem surprised to see everyone gathered outside.

“Do you want to tell them, or will I?” Nora asked.

“I’ll do it...if you cover me,” George said wryly. He turned to Derek and Casey. “Okay - we’ve come to a decision. We think that this is – at least partly – a space issue. If you two had your own space, you might not fight as much.”

Derek and Casey exchanged sceptical glances, but didn’t interrupt.

“So,” Nora continued, “We’ve decided to renovate the basement, and turn it into a bedroom. One of you can sleep there.”

“Well, I’m not sleeping in the basement!” Casey said immediately, folding his arms over his chest. “If anyone has to sleep in the basement, it should be Derek!”

“Should be, maybe. Will be...no way,” Derek disagreed, bumping him with his shoulder.

Lizzie asked, “How are you going to decide who gets what room?”

“Cage match?” Edwin suggested.

“If _Derek_ took the basement, we could all pretend he doesn’t exist,” Casey said.

“And if _Casey_ took the basement, I wouldn’t be ashamed to invite my friends over,” Derek countered.

They glared at each other. George sighed and stepped between them. “Okay. Well, we’re not going to ask anyone to make any decisions right now. Why don’t we...wait and see how the renovation turns out.” He paused. “Hey – by the end of this, maybe you’ll both be fighting over who gets the _basement_ – right, Nora?”

“Yeah! Why not?” Nora said. In a lower voice she muttered, “After all, they manage to fight over everything else.”

*****

It was too quiet.

Derek had braced himself for the (step)brother of all showdowns. He had expected shouting, shoving, long-winded lectures with ten-syllable words. He was prepared for more of the Casey-version of physical violence, which so far mostly involved a whole lot of grappling and squirming (Derek wondered if he should book Sam to give a practical demonstration of how this whole ‘wrestling’ thing really worked).

But a whole two days after the parental units announced their intention to banish one of them to the basement...and Casey hadn’t done _any_ of those things. Not even when Derek pushed it, and said things like –

“Looking forward to life underground, bro?”

Casey’s response was generally textbook reluctant, but he didn’t even try to convince Derek to take the basement, and he had a secretive smile on his face that put Derek on red alert.

Though, honestly, when he entered his room and found Casey trying to hide some paper behind his back, he didn’t connect it to the basement. His first thought was that thong-girl had awakened the latent caveman buried deep deep (deepdeepdeepdeepdeep...deep) beneath the sweater-vest, and Casey was studying the playboy bible. Probably looking at something totally tame, but all steps on the Road to Regular Guysville should be celebrated, right?

“What’re you looking at?” he asked innocently, gauging how many steps between them.

“Nothing!” Casey said, too quickly.

“Okay,” Derek nodded. “Then you won’t mind me looking at it!”

He sprang forward, and a short (and suckish) game of keep-away later, he was in possession of...he frowned, and turned the sheet in his hands. When this didn’t seem to make any difference, he tilted his head and squinted.

The paper remained resolutely covered with little colored squares and pieces of fabric. Was there such a thing as _abstract porn_?

“Give it back!”

And then suddenly, he realized. “You’re designing the basement?!” He wondered if this was more or less lame than his abstract porn idea. “What’s next, some sketches of your dream wedding?”

“Okay – very funny, now _give it back_!” Casey pulled at his shoulder. Absently, he held the paper up high with one hand, and used his other arm to block Casey coming any nearer.

“Hey,” he said suddenly, looking at the labels on Casey’s design plan. “Is that a _pool table_?”

“No! Well...”

“And a _mini-fridge_?”

Casey stopped trying to reach the piece of paper. “Hey – the way I see it, you’re never going to agree to move to the basement” – he paused as if waiting for something, before continuing, “So what’s wrong with me getting a few perks when I _do_ agree to sleep down there?” He folded his arms and regarded Derek.

“You think moving to the basement is worth a pool table _and_ a mini-fridge?”

“And a new sound system,” Casey said. “If I know my mom.”

Derek stared at him. “It sounds like you actually... _want_ to move to the basement,” he said suspiciously.

“Well...not at first, but – think about it. I get my own space, freedom from you...guilt gifts from my mom and George...” He regarded Derek carefully. “It’s actually a pretty good deal when you look at it like that.”

“...yeah,” Derek said slowly. “Yeah, it is.”

If Derek had been watching, instead of frowning at the design plan, he would have noticed that the smile spreading across Casey’s face...was the same smile that had roused his suspicions in the first place.


End file.
